Born to Lose
by nobodyshome0
Summary: John and Sherlock become friends this takes place between A Study in Pink and The Blind Banker. John struggles with the problems of having a flat mate especially a flat mate like Sherlock. Sherlock subtly sabotages John's dates for reasons he doesn't fully understand. John eventually realizes that he needs Sherlock more than he thought. A heart is something we are born to lose.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Sherlock BBC world, which is trademarked by BBC, Mark Gatiss,Steven Moffat. Both Sherlock and John are characters created and owned by Moffat,Gatiss, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of story I tell here about Sherlock and John is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of canon. as much as I wish it were so this is not considered canon and I profit in no way from posting this. Don't sue me I have no money.

transcripts from Ariane DeVere .

This story is not britpicked let me know if I made any too annoying mistakes

Born to lose

_You know why he's here? _Donovan was looking at him expectantly she wanted to tell him this and she wanted him to listen to, be shocked to, be afraid. _ He's not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it. The weirder the crime the more he gets off._ But he wasn't afraid._ And you know what? One day just showing up won't be enough. One day we'll be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one who put it there…_ but that wasn't the case, now was it? For the first time it felt like his life was falling back into place and all because of Sherlock Holmes.

John knew the moment that Sherlock realized that he was the killer, that he saved his life. Although John wasn't sure that he would see it quite like that more likely that he stole his high. Perhaps Donovan was right, about more than just Sherlock. John attempted to tamp down the rush of adrenaline that surged through him as he tried to appear casual. Sherlock was watching him with those all too observant eyes. John moved to break the silence

"Um, Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything, the two pills... Been a dreadful business, hasn't it? Dreadful."

He was a rubbish liar, it didn't help that he was trying not to smile. Sherlock looked at him for a moment, with open curiosity and perhaps respect. John surprised him again. It wasn't something that happened very often to him. It gave John a bit of an ego boost to know that he could occasionally surprise him.

"Good shot". Sherlock said quietly, almost testing him.

John feigned innocence nodding thoughtfully.

"Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window."

" Well, _you'd_ know." Sherlock said locking his gaze.

He could not pull his eyes from his as he still tried unsuccessfully not to let his expression give him away. It felt like a strange time to notice his eyes, but John wasn't sure if he had ever looked at them so intently before. They seemed to shift their color with their own ceaseless energy just like the rest of him. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he continued practically

"Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case."

John cleared his throat and glanced around nervously the spell was broken.

"Are you all right?" Sherlock asked, noticing the change immediately.

This was going to be a bit of a problem as a flat mate if he noticed everything. John felt himself nod reassuringly

" Yes, of course I'm all right." And oddly, he was, better than he had been in months. "Well, you _have_ just killed a man."

He was trying to gauge his state of mind. Trying to sort out how John felt.

"Yes, I..." Sherlock looked at him closely. "That's true, innit?"

He smiled while Sherlock continued to watch him carefully. It almost sent a shiver up his spine the acuteness of his gaze it was like the man was trying to peer into his soul and while he did, he found something there he recognized

" But he wasn't a very _nice_ man." John insisted trying to break this strange tension, that had nothing to do with murder and everything to do with Sherlock's stare. Sherlock nodded in agreement.  
"No. No, he wasn't really, was he?"

" And frankly a bloody awful cabbie." John added releasing a breath.

The tension subsided slightly. Sherlock chuckled, then turned and started to lead them away as he speaks. John wasn't sure if it was a habit to keep moving or if it was to move to conversation off the street.

"That's true. He _was_ a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!"

John couldn't see his face, but the odd morbid humor of the situation hit him full force and he laughed chagrined by his niggling morality John knew he needed to get himself under control it wasn't right.

"Stop! Stop, we can't giggle, it's a crime scene!"... and still it was funny "Stop it!" he continued half-hearted

" You're the one who shot him. Don't blame me." It was almost a game.

" Keep your voice down!" he laughed as they approached Sergeant Donovan

. " Sorry – it's just, um, nerves, I think." She was right. They were both mad.

John cleared his throat as they walked away from Donovan. He felt his tone shift, becoming more serious as his mind shifted back to the most important part of the night.

"You were gonna take that damned pill, weren't you?" Sherlock turned back to him. There was a moment when John thought that maybe for a second that he would admit it.

" Course I wasn't. Biding my time. Knew you'd turn up." Donovan was right about this at least Sherlock craved the thrill of solving puzzles that no one else could solve

" No you didn't. It's how you get your kicks, isn't it? You risk your life to prove you're clever." An addiction he could relate to.

" Why would I do that?" John chuckled a little a Sherlock, but mostly at himself.

"Because you're an idiot."

Sherlock chuckled "Dinner?" John laughed again it was a question of more than food. Sherlock opened his world to him. It was an invitation did John want to live a life of danger and suspense never knowing what might be around to corner? It was a choice and it was easy. "Starving."

John sat in his chair, staring at his blank computer screen. The plate that had contained his breakfast sat to his right along with his untouched cup of tea. He had quickly jotted down the base details of what happened, but he intended to elaborate after all, if he had to write the bloody blog he might as well be writing about something interesting rather than what he had for breakfast. However the words wouldn't come. The events in his mind were too vivid to put into words. Every attempt left them somehow duller. The excitement still thrummed through him. Sherlock sat in the chair across from him pretending to read in his dressing gown. Trying to make as much noise as possible with as little effort as he could muster. It was starting to dawn on John that his flatmate was a giant child. Easily entertained as long as you had access to a bloody murder, and incessantly bored otherwise.

" What are you doing?" John asked, knowing that he would regret it as soon as he did.

" Bored." Sherlock groaned plaintively.

It was the response that he expected or more aptly dreaded. In the short amount of time that he had known Sherlock was bored, perhaps twenty percent of the time, with the percentage rising by the moment. So far they had fallen into an easy uneven exchange. John took care of the house and Sherlock was bored. Today John was making an attempt to take some time for himself, he was going to work on his blog, write up his very first adventure with Sherlock Holmes before he decided to kill his ungrateful flatmate in his sleep. The problem was that he was as restless as Sherlock. The idea of sitting down to type up his blog had seemed pleasant at first, but now there was a nagging shooting pain in his back that had nothing to do with any actual work and more to do with sitting still for too bloody long. The problem was Sherlock was distracting him of course. That was the only explanation. The man was the most obvious thing in a room, very few people could dismiss Sherlock easily.

John sighed "do you want me to do anything?"

Sherlock scoffed. "Don't be tedious."

John nodded annoyed and reminded himself that Sherlock was a brilliant man if a terrible conversationalist. John glanced at the previous entry _And the madman himself? He's fascinating. Arrogant, imperious, pompous. He's not safe, I know that much. I'm not going to be bored and I doubt we're going to be arguing about whose turn it is to pay the gas bill or what we're going to watch on the telly. _And that part was true, while Sherlock was bored out of his skull, John wasn't, not really. Their banter was still more fun than sitting in his dark little flat thinking about Afghanistan. Sherlock had a manner about him that everyone else found off putting, that and his actual words tended to be off putting as well, while John found it exciting.

"Why don't you try some of your experiments?"

John suggested he hoped that they would be able to get the rank chemicals and god knew what else out of their fridge. Sherlock was studying him over his clasped hands. Peering at him.

"Yeah, alright." He said finally.

John would have been just as shocked if he announced that the queen was going to dance naked at noon in Trafalgar's square, that would surely draw more tourist than Nelson. John ignored his surprise and went back to work on his blog. He could hear Sherlock moving around in the kitchen, he tried not to think about that was where they prepared their food. It was hard to put into words what Sherlock did, but John had promised himself that he would finish it today. He had been living with Sherlock for about a week now and he was learning new things about the man every day. Like the man may be a genius, but that didn't mean he knew everything not by a long shot. He didn't know the earth revolves around the sun. It wasn't that he had other theories it was just that he couldn't be bothered by trivial information. It didn't matter to him. In a way that was almost as baffling to John as his ability to read everything about a person. When thinking back on the chase John could still feel the excitement the thrill of letting go and trusting Sherlock to lead the way. John frowned, that was an odd way to put it. Impatiently he tapped the backspace key. That was all he needed to share with the internet. There were already enough people talking about him. Not that Sherlock noticed. He never even attempted to bring home a date, but then again the man claimed to be married to his work. John was having a bit of trouble adjusting to a flatmate in that regard. Since getting back his mood had been too dark to attempt to date, but the night after their first case he had gone to a pub with the hope of meeting someone, the high of solving the case with Sherlock had begun to fade and he felt like a man waking from a coma. The world was brighter and he was awake and all his needs with him. He rarely chatted up women with the intention of a quick shag, but he was still coasting on the tail end of the high and he hadn't felt this randy since secondary. Yet when they arrived back at the flat Sherlock had been mixing some particularly noxious smelling chemicals and she begged off. Sherlock had seemed surprised to see them having not checked his mobile when John sent him a text letting him know he was bringing a woman back to the flat, naturally John had lost his temper a bit. He was sexually frustrated. Sherlock waved it off as unimportant, not really understanding. The man either tossed off every night and never felt any desire for another human being or was a bloody asexual.

"You've stopped typing have you finished."

John glanced up from his screen Sherlock stood over him trying to see what he was working on. John hadn't told him about the blog it was only a matter of time before he found out still John hopped it was much later.

"Not yet." He insisted Sherlock shrugged

John glanced at the screen his cursor flashed behind the word he just typed Asexual. Peeved he deleted the word. Sherlock had said everything else was transport, perhaps he was serious. Asexuals didn't feel sexual desire, but that didn't mean they didn't want any companionship John didn't really believe that he was asexual the man was an addict, he just simply got all the excitement he needed from his work.

"Where did you want to go out tonight?" Sherlock asked from the kitchen. It was their habit of late to go out to dinner since the kitchen qualified as a hazardous waste site and Sherlock really did know of some great restaurants in town. John cleared his throat feeling oddly uncomfortable.

"I, uh, was thinking of going to a pub," he replied closing his laptop. Sherlock shot a frown, his way confused.

"Why would I want to go to a pub?" he asked and before John could respond Sherlock tilted his head suspiciously

"John as I said before, I'm flattered" there was a softness in his gaze

"I was going alone!" John shouted feeling embarrassed.

There was a strange look on his face. "Ah, of course."

John cleared his throat, unsure was Sherlock lonely?

"Did you, ah, want to come?" John ran his hand through his hair. Sherlock seemed surprised. John didn't think he would say yes. He assumed Sherlock would cry off, call him an idiot for trying to spend all the energy it took into getting shagged, and then get back to work, but he did none of those things.

"Yeah, alright." He said again in the same manner as before. It was odd.

"Alright then."

John agreed actually excited at the prospect of having Sherlock as a mate, the only question was would it be wrong to use his insight to help him.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Sherlock BBC world, which is trademarked by BBC, Mark Gatiss,Steven Moffat. Both Sherlock and John are characters created and owned by Moffat,Gatiss, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of story I tell here about Sherlock and John is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of canon. as much as I wish it were so this is not considered canon and I profit in no way from posting this.

This story is not britpicked let me know if I made any too annoying mistakes

John returned from the bar with two pints. Sherlock had suggested a spot that John had never been to, it seemed a bit of a younger crowd, but he was up for something new. Sherlock nodded slightly in acknowledgement as he set the beers down at the table. He looked fit John had to admit his dark curls tousled, just right, a dark burgundy shirt and black trousers that favored the contrast of light and dark he represented, but whenever he went in public he dressed sharply, he either liked keeping up appearances which was not bloody likely or John was never going to figure him out. He was scanning the crowd as he sipped his beer. John wasn't sure if there was any actual interest there or if he was simply here because he was bored. His gaze swung back to John.

"I assume this is an attempt to meet a woman." Sherlock muttered his tone bordering on derision. John rolled his eyes, feeling like he was explaining sex to a potted plant.

"Yeah, it is. Is that so hard to understand?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed examining him.

"And what would you say to this woman to have her follow you to the flat?"

John couldn't tell if Sherlock was mocking him or if he was asking because he didn't know.

John shrugged "it depends on the woman."

He nodded thoughtfully. Before inclining his head towards a woman at the bar.

"Her?" John followed the line of Sherlock's gaze. She was younger than him by maybe ten years. She had auburn hair that framed her face, she had a sweet round face and toasted honey eyes. Her figure curved in all the right places. She wore a simple red dress that emphasized her assets for all they were worth. She was sipping some cocktail, and absently glancing around She wasn't likely to give him the time of day, let alone come home with him.

"She is out of my league." John admitted sipping his beer.

"What do you mean? Sherlock asked, seemingly mystified. John took it as a compliment.

He chuckled " _That_ woman would never come home with me." He laughed. Sherlock really didn't understand how dating worked. Sherlock raised a brow.

"Your confidence is dizzying." John shrugged, he wasn't worried he wasn't Don Juan, but he had never had any real trouble finding women. He glanced over at Sherlock he might have better luck at this scene than him.

"Perhaps you should talk to her?" He said encouragingly hell, who knew how getting shagged would change Sherlock's demeanor he might even become something close to human.

Sherlock jeered "As if I would be interested in something so banal as a quick romp with some anonymous slapper." John was surprised by Sherlock's sudden crudeness. It was then he noticed that Sherlock had already finished off his pint

"And what would you be satisfied with?" he prodded surprised

Sherlock arched a brow again, obviously annoyed

"That is an idiotic question." He groused. " Isn't it obvious" John chuckled Sherlock thought everything was obvious.

"No some of us need elaboration." It was slightly funny. Sherlock didn't seem to have much of a tolerance.

Sherlock glanced at him pointedly before he opened his mouth to speak most likely to preform some brilliant deduction. When the waitress brought over a cocktail, handing it to Sherlock

"From the woman by the bar." They glanced over to see the women they had been talking about wave.

John playfully slapped Sherlock on the arm. " I told you." He insisted.

Sherlock snorted an honest to god snort. " Not interested, but I will take the drink." He muttered drinking heavily from the cocktail. John liked this side of Sherlock. It was a bit more palatable than his normal personality.

He looked at John and he felt his heart jolt. Sherlock was not unattractive normally, but his smile was a rare thing and it was breathtaking. The pint must be affecting him more than he thought if he was noticing how bright Sherlock's eyes were.

Sherlock was looking at him again and his brain or more aptly much a much lower part of his anatomy reminded him why he was there. He scanned the crowd again looking for a woman who seemed interested.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock demanded, sounding bored again.

"What I came here to do." John groused. Sherlock stood quickly if a bit shakily

"Do you fancy her?" he asked quickly gesturing towards the woman they had discussed

John glanced her way again. He wasn't blind, she was gorgeous. He simply nodded rather than elaborate. Sherlock downed the rest of the cocktail. "Alright." He mumbled before striding confidently towards her. John watched utterly astonished by Sherlock actions.

John watched amazed as Sherlock began chatting up this woman. His entire personality shifted and he seemed charming and charismatic, he gestured towards him and John managed to smile slightly. The woman tilted her head, and sent a smoldering look his way, seeming to be interested in whatever Sherlock was telling her.

John's amazement continued as the woman stood and approached him at the table. Sherlock inclined his head and directed to her with a dramatic flourish of his hand, as if to say your welcome.

She swayed up to him looking like sin in heels. She smiled at him as she approached her lips were cherry red. She didn't say a word when she reached him John found himself standing. She was about the same height as him in the heels. She laid a hand across his cheek and pulled him in for a kiss. What in bloody hell did Sherlock say to her? " Jesus, " he gasped

She smiled like the cat who caught the canary "Cerise, actually" John had no words. He did notice however that she was American. She looped her arm in his "Would you like to take me back to your place? She purred. Leaning against him, allowing him to feel the press her breast against his arm.

This was happening a lot faster and easier than what was his typical experience. There was a niggling suspicion in the back of his mind, but he ignored it.

"I've got a flat mate." He said quickly looking around for Sherlock, but he was gone.

"I know and he explained everything." She whispered, leaning into him again.

What in bloody hell had Sherlock told her about him? He would ask later, hopefully it would work more than once.

"Shall we?"she asked suggestively John nodded and found himself not caring where Sherlock went.

The taxi ride home was interesting to say the least. Her hand on his thigh kept straying upwards with quick teasing caresses brushing against his cock driving him mad. The trip home couldn't have happened fast enough.

She kissed him again in the foyer pushing him against the wall twirling her tongue around in a way that he imagined would feel simply fantastic on his cock. Part of him wanted the lay her down and shag right there against the stairs, but he knew how uncomfortable for her it would be and he had enough self-control to make it upstairs.

Once inside the flat John didn't care if Sherlock could see them. He pressed her against the door, kissing her, running his hands over her body. She pushed him away slightly. "Slow down, darling, I thought it was readily understood cash upfront, with these transactions." John felt his heart skip a beat as he practically flung himself away from the door. That bloody bastard. There was no possible reality where Sherlock hadn't known what he was getting John into.

" Fuck" John swore when he saw Sherlock next he was going kill him. That was all there was to it. She arched a brow. "I'm guessing your friend did let on that I was a working girl? What a fuckhead." She muttered under her breath. John could barely believe the situation he was in. It was completely nonsensical. She smiled awkwardly looking much more relaxed and natural. Most of the lipstick had rubbed off, leaving her lips a more natural color. John swiped a hand over his mouth the back of his hand was smeared with red. Perfect.

"This is rather awkward." She said with a giggled. John nodded. He was rock hard and furious with Sherlock. "Is Cerise your real name."

"What do you think?" she asked sardonically

"Can I get money for a cab ride back to the bar? She asked.

With a sigh John fished out the money and handed it to her.

She moved leave the flat, then turned back and smiled slightly

"If it means anything you're an awesome kisser." John couldn't help but be slightly mollified by the compliment.

After she left John settled in his chair to wait for Sherlock to return. Around an hour later Sherlock walked casually into the flat.

John glared at him. "You cock, you utter cock." Sherlock froze then frowned confused

" I thought I allowed for an adequate amount time for those sort of activities." John almost found it funny that he thought he was angry for interrupting.

"She was a prostitute." He said as calmly as he could manage, but the fury still shook his voice.

"Yes…" he agreed, "wasn't it obvious." John didn't want to know what Sherlock saw to instantly recognize her as a prostitute and he clearly missed. "Exactly!" he shouted, bounding from his chair. Sherlock narrowed his eyes assessing the conversation.

"Ah, I see this is considered a problem for you… she was providing a service you required, it seemed the most beneficial arrangement." He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.

"What about me makes you think I would go to prostitute?" he demanded Sherlock moved to answer and he instantly regretted it. Holding up his hands to ward off anything he would say. "Never mind." he insisted quickly. John sighed Sherlock clearly had no idea what he did was wrong. "This never happened." John maintained "We will never talk about this again." Sherlock Smiled. "I should hope not."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Sherlock BBC world, which is trademarked by BBC, Mark Gatiss,Steven Moffat. Both Sherlock and John are characters created and owned by Moffat,Gatiss, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of story I tell here about Sherlock and John is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of canon. as much as I wish it were so this is not considered canon and I profit in no way from posting this. Don't sue me I have no money.

transcripts from Ariane DeVere .

This story is not britpicked let me know if I made any too annoying mistakes I did this chapter really quickly sorry its short.

Febuary 16th

The incident last week permanently buried to all living memory, John had published his first blog entry spent a lonely week looking for work and avoided his flatmate like the plague.

It was juvenile he accepted that, but it was either avoid Sherlock or punch him in the face and sense punching him was more juvenile John simple avoided him. Something easier said than done. After their row John had gone to bed, and honestly a row wasn't really the best word for it, Sherlock stood there while John yelled at him than he made snide comments questioning his intelligence than John yelled again. The worse part was through all of it, he never lost his erection he was sure Sherlock noticed, the man noticed everything. When he went to bed he had been so angry and sexually frustrated that he hadn't been able to sleep till he wanked like a teenager which he was sure Sherlock knew about as well. The man noticed everything. It was damn near impossible to avoid him in the flat so John went on long, boring walks staying out much longer than necessary. He spent a lot of time at Tesco browsing and still he found himself back at the flat, half hoping Sherlock would say something interesting to break up the monotony. The worse part was that honestly, he wasn't even angry any longer. Sherlock seemed to have that effect on him. Simultaneously provoked him and drew him in.

Last night he had gone out with Mike, the first time he had been out since the debacle and it had been, kind of boring. It wasn't anything against his friend they did what they normally did and that was the problem. He was agitated it was the same feeling he felt between combat. They hadn't gotten a case in the last week and the strain of boredom on Sherlock was beginning to show. He caught the kitchen on fire with one of his experiments this morning, it had been the most thrilling thing to happen all week. John was going on a date tonight. He hoped that it would help to break up the tedium Mike had set him up, he doubted it would be anything special, but he was bored and he was beginning to sound like Sherlock.

"Text me if we catch a case." John insisted as he was about to leave. Sherlock was ignoring him staring off into the distance, likely thinking on some great puzzle. The taxi driver had mentioned someone or something named Moriarty the idea had seemed to consume him this last week.

John had asked her to meet him at the Italian place Sherlock had taken him to during their first case. Angelo seemed rather surprised that John wasn't with Sherlcok the man never seemed to grasp that they hadn't been on a date, but he really enjoyed the manicotti. Angelo had not brought a candle to their to table. John found himself seated across from a pretty brunette a few years younger than him with glasses and a winsome smile. She said her name was Jane, she worked with Mike's wife and things were going well. She seemed like a pleasant enough woman she was a primary school teacher, and she looked the part. She had a sweet sunny disposition and a soft voice that John imagined would be incredibly sexy moaning his name in bed, but she had nothing interesting to talk about. She looked really nice she wore a flirty black dress and dove grey stockings she seemed cute, but she felt like fiction. She was ordinary it wasn't bad and he wasn't even sure if he would have noticed it a month ago. He engaged in the normal casual banter, talking about her day and her life. It was all very civil and ordinary. John found his thoughts drifting off, he wondered what Sherlock was doing. He most likely hadn't been eating properly, this week the man acted like the idea of eating every day was excessive. He thought back to the conversation that night with Sherlock he never really got a straight answer on who Sherlock was attracted to or if he ever was attracted to anyone. The idea that the body was just a vessel wasn't a new theory, but Sherlock was no monk, he just seemed to not require anything normal human beings did, he lived for solving cases or maybe lived off solving cases. The chase afterwards had left him equally exhilarated and giggling like a giddy school girl in the foyer it still was the most ridiculous thing he had ever done and it was still thrilling. He frowned, remembering the ensuing drug bust he had nearly forgotten about it with all the commotion afterwards. John wondered, did he have drugs in the flat? Jane reached across the table and laid her hand on his own.

"What do you say then?" she asked. John froze, she had obviously asked him a question of some kind. He wasn't Sherlock, but from the way she was looking at him soft eyed and smiling it must have been important.

"Yeah, sounds good." He agreed not sure what he was getting himself into. She grinned "I never do this." She said with a sexy lilting laugh. "Let me just phone my flat mate and be sure she's out." she stood and walked out the door leaving John to pay. John was getting the distinct impression that he had been invited back to her place. Which astounded him, considering he wasn't even sure he could remember a single word she had said before this. He felt like an utter arse. On his way to meet her his mobile alert went off.

**What are you doing?**

**SH**

John glanced up Jane was attempting to wave down a cab. She was cute in a bookish kind of way she had a quality about her he found sweet if a little less than intense. He would make it up to her at her flat. He would be more engaging and actually listen to whatever it was she was saying about her students or her reading preferences.

**On a date, if there is no case piss off**

**JW**

He met Jane as the cab pulled up. She smiled at him pleased. " My flatmate is at her boyfriend's tonight and won't be home." she was very pretty when she smiled. As they got in the cab and she gave directions to her place his mobile when off again. Begrudgingly, he checked it

**Going well then?**

**SH**

John couldn't resist.

**Yes, actually we are going back to her flat.**

**JW**

"Sorry about that." he added as he noticed her expression she seemed less than thrilled expression. She perked up and nodded "It's alright." Before he could even mute the ringer Sherlock replied.

**Things seem to be progressing quickly you sure it's not the same situation as last time.**

**SH**

John scowled that was the most he had ever seen Sherlock text and it was insulting he was improving.

**Yes, now I repeat unless there is a case piss off**

**JW**

His mobile didn't even make it to his pocket before it buzzed. She waved it off assuming it was important, but John could tell she was becoming mildly annoyed.

**Do you want me to find a case?**

**SH**

John thought about it, get shagged or run around the city with Sherlock. It was actually a difficult choice and he hated that he considered it. They arrived at her flat before he had a chance to respond. Once inside she took his coat and hung it by the door before inviting him further inside.

It was a cozy flat with white and bright colors, modern décor. "You want me to get you a glass of wine?" she asked gesturing to the kitchen.

He felt the buzz of his mobile against his thigh. "Yes, sounds nice." He smiled to give his words more warmth than he meant. The moment she turned he reached for his mobile

**Are you having sex?**

**SH**

Oh for gods sake he thought. No. he typed quickly before thinking better of it

**No, not yet anyway. Is there a case or not?**

**JW**

"Would you prefer red or white?" he heard Jane call from the kitchen. "Either is fine."he agreed. He carefully set his mobile down on the end table where he could still view any messages.

"Do you wanna put something on the telly?" Jane asked absently John turned on the television not really caring what channel it was on. There was a slight buzz from the table as Jane joined him with glasses of red wine. He should of asked for white. She sat the glasses next to his mobile on the end table. It took nearly all his self control not to check the message and he failed.

**There might be something, reconnaissance required.**

**SH**

Jane joined him on the sofa, she snuggled up close to him with the obvious attempt of seducing him. Caressing his thigh lightly, smiling at him. She turned to him and kissed him the television obviously pretense. The kiss was like the rest of her perfectly adequate, even nice and gentle,but he felt no passion and as much as he enjoyed a good snog part of him couldn't relax until he knew about the case. Sherlock had been handling cases long before he arrived, but John wanted to be part of the action and Sherlock valued his medical expertise, that or found him a less offensive sounding board than people like Anderson, either way it was fun and exciting. Jane pulled away to unbutton her dress. Showing hints of a lacy black bra. This was escalating quickly; there was a minimal window where John could decide what he wanted. He really could use a good shag it had ages since he had been with anyone and he had bemoaned his sexual frustration all week with daily wank sessions in the shower, but the moment didn't feel right. He thought he wanted this, but he wasn't sure he wanted a relationship. If he couldn't handle the first conversation with the woman he doubted that it would last and he felt rather guilty, she thought they were having an amazing date when half the time he was thinking about his flat mate. Part of him begged him to shut off his brain and his conscience and shag till he was spent and could no longer move. He was sorely tempted to lose himself in her if only for a little while, She smiled encouragingly as she shimmied off her dress. Fuck he couldn't do it, he wanted to have sex, but all he couldn't think about was going on a case with Sherlock. He was obviously fucking metal. He raised his hands up warding her off. She frowned, confused

"I'm sorry." He blurted "you're great, but I've got to go." He finished lamely she stared at him like he grew a second head or lost his mind because he had. She was standing in front of him in her knickers

"Get out." she said covering up her breasts completely mortified he felt guilty, but if Sherlock needed him…

John grabbed his coat on the way out cringing when she slammed the door behind him. He checked his mobile to find some very familiar texts and he felt himself get excited.

**Baker Street. Come at once if convenient.  
SH**

**If inconvenient, come anyway.  
SH **

**Could be dangerous.  
SH**

If Sherlock lied John would die, out of shear sexual frustration, then again, before Sherlock he would of died of boredom


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Sherlock BBC world, which is trademarked by BBC, Mark Gatiss,Steven Moffat. Both Sherlock and John are characters created and owned by Moffat,Gatiss, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of story I tell here about Sherlock and John is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of canon. as much as I wish it were so this is not considered canon and I profit in no way from posting this.

This story is not britpicked let me know if I made any too annoying mistakes.

sorry I haven't posted sooner.

John called himself all kinds of a fool as he raced back to the flat to find Sherlock in nearly the same position he had left him in. If John hadn't known him, he might have thought he was asleep. He lay on the sofa shirtless, his hands steepled, resting on his lips, his eyes closed a nicotine patch graced his shoulder, John relaxed as he saw it. Only one patch meant the situation wasn't as dire as the texts made it sound.

"John." The word wasn't a question, simply acknowledging his presence. His fingers dropped back to his lips drawing John's attention to his mouth.

"You're texts sounded urgent." John said a little breathlessly.

He had run, half the way when he couldn't catch a cab. Surly that was the only reason.

"The phrasing worked last time, I assumed it would work again. You have a rather unhealthy desire for danger."

John ignored his last words. "And the case?" he asked Sherlock glanced over and raked his eyes up and down his body. John felt something inside him tighten in response. John wasn't sure of what his appearance would tell Sherlock, he had to assume it would tell him everything. It felt weirdly intimate to think of Sherlock knowing that he left a woman to come to him… for a case with him. Sherlock didn't say anything, just continued to stare at him as if he was one of his puzzles. His pale chest all angles and grace and he sat up and reached for the dressing gown he had discarded after John left. His eyes still locked on John he pulled it around him. John released a breath; he hadn't known he was holding when his skin was no longer exposed. John shook himself, and pushed away the errant thoughts.

"Yes, the case." Sherlock agreed, seeming a little bemused himself.

His eyes swept him up and down again, this time assessing for something different. "What you're wearing is fine, but you might want to straighten it, we are going back out." John walked upstairs and glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Dear god, anyone would guess that he had just had sex; his hair was slightly rumpled there was lipstick on his neck just under his jaw line and his lips slightly reddened from the same source. His shirt was partially untucked from when Jane had reached inside

"Christ," he swore astounded. No wonder he hadn't been able to get a bloody cab. He looked well shagged at best and an utter drunkard at worst. Sherlock's head appeared over his shoulder; he had tossed on a shirt, but had yet to button it.

"On second thought, I suggest you change the shirt, smells too much like perfume."

Without thinking John began unbuttoning his shirt. Sherlocks eyes locked on to the faintest of bruises along his clavicle, a little love bite not from Jane, but from the woman Cerise, nearly faded away. Sherlock seemed oddly distracted by the mark as if he couldn't fathom how it got there. John cleared his throat. That snapped Sherlock to attention.

"Be ready in five minutes." He ordered his voice strangely harsh.

John felt tightly wound like a spring ready to snap. He tossed aside his shirt in favor of a red one and struggled to get his treacherous libido in check, Sherlock's tone and presence had sent it speeding ahead not bothering to ask his permission. It was bloody awkward. He was hoping for danger to give him an excuse to work off the excess energy and frustration.

John caught himself turning to glance out the window again.

"Part of being covert means not glancing over your shoulder every ten minutes" Sherlock reminded him mockingly, but rather than sound angry he seemed oddly content.

Before he turned his attention back to the menu apparently it had been long enough that it was time for Sherlock to eat.

"I am watching, you're here to make me seem less suspicious, and right now you are doing a poor job of it." They were at a restaurant John hadn't bothered to check which one, but the menu was in French so that narrowed it down.

They had sat at a table by the window Sherlock had taken the outside forcing John to face him rather than the street. Sherlock had cleaned up before going out, he was wearing a white shirt with black buttons, that John thought made him look younger somehow, with his black coat. His hair was freshly washed and curled about his face. John rather liked it. Sherlock glanced at the menu on more time seemingly frustrated

"Mycroft is right, I'm getting rusty. Could you order me something off the menu?"

John was a bit surprised first that Sherlock didn't know everything and secondly that he would admit to ignorance even briefly. John wasn't sure what he would like, not being hungry himself since he had just eaten with… dear god had he already forgotten her name? Janet? Janice? It didn't matter, it was doubtful that he would ever see her again and if they did chance to meet, he doubted she would be happy to see him, he would need to think of an excuse to explain to Mike what made him act like a perfect git. Once he found an explanation for himself, that is, he thought ruefully. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat wishing away his errant erection. It would be truly god awful to try to explain his current physical sate to Sherlock. Their waiter arrived and John decided on something most medically beneficial to Sherlock and ordered _Moules à la crème Normande_ and an Éclair for himself. Sherlock raised a brow

"Mussels have high levels of highly desirable long chain fatty acids These fats have many beneficial effects, including improving brain function. Mussels are also a brilliant source of vitamins. Plus, they give you a shot of important minerals, such as zinc, which helps build immunity. Mussels even contain levels of iron and folic acid to rival red meats." John explained

Sherlock shrugged and sipped some white wine.

"And here I thought they were only useful as an aphrodisiac." Sherlock muttered dryly.

John felt himself growing red, but tried to ignore it.

"They are known to be high in zinc, which has been associated with improving sexual potency in men." He admitted feeling oddly heated he took a quick graceless gulp of wine.

Sherlock seemed to take pity on him because he smiled, but remained silent. This showed at least that Sherlock wasn't entirely ignorant on all things sexual. Then again, for all John knew it was useful information that he used for a case and had nothing to do with personal experience. Sherlock seemed oddly entertained by his embarrassment.

"More wine?" John asked hopefully hoping to break up the awkwardness he was feeling. Sherlock merely nodded, and waved towards the waiter.

" My colleague would like some more wine." John felt himself growing red under the waiter's stare. He didn't believe John and Sherlock were colleague's judging by his dubious stare.

Admittedly on the outside the situation would look more like a date than reconnaissance, but that didn't mean anything to him. The waiter gently poured him another glass of the sweet white wine.

"Leave the bottle." John murmured as the man moved to leave.

If there was any actual chance of danger Sherlock wouldn't be drinking and John had a feeling if he had to sit here sober things would never… relax between the two of them. John attempted to make small talk, but his efforts were quickly exhausted. He had other things on his mind, one being the extremely strong desire to wank, and at the moment he wasn't sure if he would picture the woman from his date or Sherlock.

Their waiter arrived and handed them their meal they ate in relative silence, John watched Sherlock eat the mussels. Spearing the first one to get at the flesh before using the shell to eat the second. John noticed Sherlock observe him watching. Self-consciously John licked the cream from his lips.

"How was your date?" Sherlock finally asked. John shrugged.

" Any prospects I had were gone the moment I walked out of there."

" Had?" Sherlock asked quietly, his eyes intense.

John shrugged again. Was Sherlock asking him if he had sex? Or was John reading too much into it.

" Why the sudden interest in my love life?" John asked suspiciously.

First Sherlock set him up with a prostitute then he questioned him about Jane that was her name Jane. Sherlock was staring at him again. John suddenly felt warm,he blamed it on the wine. "Just wanting to be sure you can focus when we have a case, lives are at stake." He finished drolly John took another swig of the wine. Not enjoying the flavor. Of course it would be related to a case, there was no other reason for his interest. John poured himself another glass of wine, wishing he had eaten more at his dinner with Jane. The wine was going to his head.

John was staring at Sherlock's shirt as they walked unsteadily towards their flat. It dawned on him that he was drunk. He voiced his thoughts

"I'm pissed." He said with a grin, looking up trying to see Sherlock's face. Sherlock glanced down at him with a slight frown wrinkling his brow. There was a peculiar look on his face, surely John was misreading it, but it looked like concern." Really John." Shelock grossed. John had to agree it was a tad unprofessional of him. To over imbibe while on a case. He had his arm over Sherlock's shoulder their height discrepancy forcing John's face towards Sherlock's chest, he smelled rather nice. As Sherlock was forced to stoop slightly ruing their gait. It took ages to get back to the flat all the while John was pressed closely against Sherlock, it felt nice. Sherlock always looked so aloof so cold, but he felt very close and very warm. They had some difficulty maneuvering up the stairs. John felt his entire body flush as he was pressed against Sherlock's. Dear god he had to admit it. He was attracted to his flatmate. John had always noticed that he had felt a slight attraction to men, but his parent's had their hands full with his sister. Her coming out was all they ever could handle. Plus, he had never acted on his impulses. Never had a boyfriend to bring home, never had a lover to show off. He wasn't gay. Why trouble his parents. His military service had given him no reason's to come forward either. He was Bi. It was something he always had trouble admitting even to himself. Sometimes he even forgot and fancied himself straight. There were only a few men he had found attractive and never to the degree of attraction he felt for Sherlock. If Sherlock noticed he had kept this discovery to himself. Sherlock helped him up to his room. He paused long enough to be sure that John could undress himself and get comfortable. He actually seemed to find humor in John's situation.

" Perhaps we can try again tomorrow? Same place?" Sherlock asked.

John just nodded drunkenly. "Good night John."

John stripped once the door closed and slid naked between his sheets. Images of Sherlock swirled through his head. John could easily picture himself caressing his pale bare flesh nipping at his neck till he left his own marks on him. Without thinking he wrapped his hand around his hard cock. Picturing Sherlock's long pale hand instead of his own. He thought of coming upon Sherlock just as he had when he arrived back at the flat. Shirtless spread out along the sofa. John stroked himself as he imagined climbing over him. Sherlock's arms wrapping around him, his eyes still closed. Their bodies flush together, grinding gently against each other. He could hear Sherlock moan in his mind as clearly as if it was in the same room. He could picture his brilliant blue green eyes flashing open on a gasp as John slid his hand up his body. Sherlock was normally so in control so reserved John wanted to see him react. His brain searched for images for ways to continue he couldn't bring himself to imagine any further fantasy. The same fear that always did held him back now. His brain just ran the same pictures of Sherlock in his mind until he came. It felt inappropriate to picture Sherlock his brain was foggy and he was having trouble concentrating. It was because he was drunk he decided. This meant nothing their work relationship wouldn't change Sherlock must never realize that John found him attractive. John's life was finally becoming interesting he could not lose his partnership. If he did, he felt like he would lose his mind. This fantasy was all it ever would be.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Sherlock BBC world, which is trademarked by BBC, Mark Gatiss,Steven Moffat. Both Sherlock and John are characters created and owned by Moffat,Gatiss, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of story I tell here about Sherlock and John is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of canon. as much as I wish it were so this is not considered canon and I profit in no way from posting this. Don't sue me I have no money.

transcripts from Ariane DeVere .

This story is not britpicked let me know if I made any too annoying mistakes

I am continuing the series "with what beats within." Chapters coming soon

**February 17****th**

John was suffering… His memory of last night was hazy at best and absent at worst. The worst part that wasn't absent was him wanking off while imagining his flatmate. He couldn't remember what happened at the restaurant or their walk home, but unfortunately he vividly remembered thinking about Sherlock with his hand around his cock. John closed his eyes the feeble light streaming in through the curtains made his head ache. If he was being utterly and completely honest with himself, his attraction to Sherlock wasn't a new development, the first time he saw the man a thrill ran through him, that was only further enhanced by his brilliant deductions. John had to admit, it was part of the thrill of working with him, but it didn't mean anything. The man was frustrating and insufferable and more importantly married to his work. Any attempt to get closer to him would be rebuffed. Any time Sherlock even thought that he was planning on chatting him up he shut it down. It was bloody perfect. John just needed to relax and realize that physical attraction didn't mean that they couldn't work together. He found Sally Donovan attractive, but had no interest in changing their professional relationship. This was just exacerbated because he was living with Sherlock, most people couldn't stand being around him this long. His own brother… well Mycroft wasn't a good example. Surly after time this crush would fade. That was all it was.

**Febuary 27th**

Days later it was still not any easier. John drank heavily of late, wanting Sherlock was growing tiresome. Normally he avoided drinking, but he and Sherlock had gone on several surveillance missions around London, at some of the posher restaurants in town and it was the one thing that wasn't obvious to Sherlock, but everyone on the outside saw these missions as dates and it was beginning to chafe at John's nerves. They needed a real case something to cement their professional relationship so that he would stop thinking of Sherlock as a normal, available person. Sherlock was playing his violin, composing most likely judging by the sudden start and stops, if he thought any less of him after the last couple of nights John couldn't read it from his face. " Good morning John." He said, sounding rather chipper. Suspicious John watched him carefully.

"Tea?" he asked Sherlock nodded before picking up his violin again. The tone was light, surprisingly sweet. Sherlock was in a strangely good mood while John was slowly losing his mind. Perhaps all the surveillance was finally amounting to something. John didn't want to question him, but nothing had come of their surveillance so far and John couldn't see the connection between the series of restaurants. John didn't want to let Sherlock down, but he wasn't sure what they were doing and the more time John spent with Sherlock the more time he wanted to spend with him. John needed the adventure that Sherlock offered, more than he needed anything else, sometimes it felt like he needed that thrill more than he needed breathing. More than he needed anything.

"Are we going out tonight?" John winced at the sound of his words he sounded like a hopeful boyfriend wanting a night on the town. Sherlock waved a hand dismissively

"No, I have a thing." He sounded almost apologetic. Perhaps it was for the best, John wasn't in the best control of his emotions right now. He had never been more confused in his life. He found Sherlock attractive and for some reason, even the idea of it wrecked him. He had gone for so long with this image of himself, John Watson, solider, doctor, man, an image that didn't allow for him to be different and made no room for him to change. He was a right awful judgmental prick being gay was fine for his sister. If anyone insulted her he was there in an instant defending her, but he couldn't be gay, he didn't, couldn't, accept that aspect about himself and he wasn't sure why. Maybe he was a coward, feared his friends would look at him differently, scared that if he wasn't the man they all thought him to be, who was he? John ran an agitated hand through his hair as he stared down at his computer part of him wanted to write. To get the thoughts out and them maybe he could look past it, but he knew that he couldn't put it into words, yet it was all still so new, so unfamiliar. Sometimes it felt like he tried so hard to be everything everyone else wanted he wasn't sure what he wanted. He had always been the good son, the good solider, and the good doctor. What part of him was real and what part was an act? The worst of it was he was actually angry with Sherlock, all his life the attraction had been there below the surface. Yes of course he had noticed it before, but he had always been able to push it away after a time, and forget. His attraction for Sherlock almost felt like an obsession, it smacked him in the face in a way he couldn't deny. He almost wished that Sherlock hadn't reminded him that he was bisexual. It was an identity he was having trouble coming to terms with, and he hated that it bothered him. Still, he couldn't bring himself to regret meeting Sherlock the man brought light into his dark world he was just angry. Until he wrapped his head around being Bi he decided that he would give himself some space. Once he came to terms with being Bi then he could come to terms with wanting Sherlock and hopefully they would have a case before that and he would be able to work out his frustrations that way. He needed something to do he was used to being active. That was what made it worse his mind wandered and he was trapped here all day with the subject of his thoughts.

John leapt up quicker than he originally intended, receiving a wave of nausea as his reward. He really had been drinking too much lately. Valiantly he struggled through it as Sherlock watched him curiously. John was sure the man knew he was hung over. He knew everything; John could only hope that he was hiding his emotions better than he thought. He just needed a god damn case. Sherlock had stepped closer to him when he stood and laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. They were standing very closely together, but no closer than he had stood with other colleagues as they stood around a person in need or when they had stood over the woman in pink. Sherlock was watching him an inscrutable look on his face nervously John licked his lips. Sherlock's grey green eyes unreadable focused on his motion, before forcefully looking away.

"Emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning." Sherlock said suddenly John frowned as usual, completely lost to the direction of Sherlock's thoughts, he was watching John very closely the same almost pitying look on his face as when he thought John wanted to date him.

"I never make exceptions." Sherlock intoned meaningfully his tone was almost that of a warning "An exception disproves the rule."

John still wasn't sure what he was trying to tell him, his head ached and his stomach rolled and threatened to truly embarrass him, but trying to accommodate John nodded "Yes, of course." Sherlock narrowed his eyes obviously unsure John understood.

"The work is what is most important to me, and I can never lose focus. I need to keep busy, my mind," he said, seriously "rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere. I can dispense then with artificial stimulants, but I abhor the dull routine of existence. I could never settle into a relationship, I crave for mental exaltation. That is why I have chosen my own particular profession, or rather created it, for I am the only one in the world. So when I say I am married to my work it is the only the truth."

John stared on feeling slightly insulted and flattered at the same time. On some level Sherlock noticed the attraction and either reciprocated or pitied him The man was shockingly intelligent, wildly observant and bloody attractive. John found himself wanting to agree to anything he said to follow him to the ends of the earth if nothing else because it was the only thing that made his life worth living. He didn't think that he could go back to the way it was before they just needed a case and he just needed to get hold of himself. He was willing to give up his peace of mind to be with Sherlock. He nodded solemnly " I understand"

**March 23rd**

John was at his breaking point. He was sexually frustrated at this point he wanted a good shag more than he wanted food. A key element to his fantasies, was Sherlock Holmes. John wasn't sure if it was the man himself or the sheer fact that he was unattainable. John had struggled with his sexuality for years, only recently coming to terms with the fact that he was attracted to men and the only man he wanted was totally physically and emotionally unavailable. So that was an issue he should, but wouldn't talk to his therapist about. He hadn't even mentioned to her his attraction to men, how could he talk to her about his desire for his mad flatmate. He was also emotionally frustrated. He had tried to focus on a platonic friendship with Sherlock and he was fulfilled up to a point, but there were times where it left him feeling rejected or not good enough and other times he wanted to beat Sherlock into a little bloody pulp and hide the body so well that even he couldn't of found it. They just needed a case. John was bloody frustrated, which was probably why he was having an argument with a bloody chip and pin machine. He glared down at the machine again as he tried to scan a head of lettuce

"Item not scanned. Please try again."John straightened up, staring at the device in exasperation.

"D'you think you could keep your voice down?" he demanded a large part of him wanted to destroy the machine just because he could, but John usually ignored whatever that particularly vengeful part of him wanted. He finally got everything scanned he inserted his card into the chip-and-PIN machine. He typed in his PIN and waited "Card not authorised. Please use an alternative method of payment."angrily John continued

"Yes, all right! I've got it!" anxious to be on his way "Card not authorised. Please use an alternative method of payment." The man in the queue behind him has already picked up his own basket in expectation of getting to the scanner soon. John reaches towards his back pocket, but realized that he had no other way of paying. Embarrassed and annoyed he spoke quickly "Got nothing." He grumbled in defense He pointed accusingly at the machine.

"Right, keep it. Keep that."

As the man behind him looked on in surprise, John angrily walked away, abandoning his shopping. The other man probably thought him a complete nutter, but John didn't care. He was so bloody frustrated he would almost welcome the trade and go back to when his life was just boring, almost. As he walked back to the flat John was thinking about the people who came to Sherlock earlier asking for his help. The Jaria Diamond that had gone missing, silently he prayed that Sherlock would take a case. John knew he couldn't force him to accept cases that wasn't his call, but he really needed a release for all the pent up emotions and energy he was dealing with. It was becoming very difficult to live with him because it was so easy. John had learned to live with people he didn't like in the military, but he had craved alone time. It wasn't like that with Sherlock. They had developed an easy rhythm, they went out to eat mostly because the kitchen, yet sometimes they ate at home John made dinner and put something on the telly. Sometime Sherlock watched with him, other times he would read or sit at his laptop. Except for the sexual tension it was the most comfortable relationship he ever had. That was part of what made it so frightening.

"You took your time." Sherlock called out as he climbed the stairs

"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping." Sherlock looked over the top of his book indignantly

"What? Why not?" annoyed John replied

"Because I had a row," Sherlock glanced up quickly as if to access his wellbeing once he saw him he regarded his book again.

"In the shop, with a chip-and-PIN machine." Sherlock lowered his book a little "You ... you had a row with a machine?" he asked skeptically

"Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?" with a fond amused smile he nodded towards the kitchen "Take my card." John walked towards the kitchen where Sherlock's wallet is lying on the table, he turned back to his flatmate indignant."You could always go yourself, you know. You've been sitting there all morning. You've not even moved since I left." Sherlock seemed to ponder that and find it humorous. "And what happened about that case you were offered – the Jaria Diamond?" John asked hopefully "Not interested." He intoned shutting his book with a loud crack "I sent them a message." Damn it John thought frustrated. They needed a case so badly. This was the third possible case that Sherlock had dismissed as uninteresting. Soon John was going to go completely mad waiting. There was an odd scratch on the table. Ok living with Sherlock was more annoying sometimes than others, he was not the most thoughtful flatmate for someone who saw everything he didn't always understand someone else's view.

Annoyed John stalked back to the store to pick up the shopping. All the while thinking about the Sherlock Holmes problem. John couldn't leave, not really after having that first taste of adventure he knew it was what his life, was missing what made his life worth living. He was willing to give up almost anything to stay with him. It was a disturbing thought. He had tried to distance himself, he had gone out every night and tried to relax, but he always found himself going back to the flat to see if Sherlock needed him, but that was the problem really, he didn't need him.

Staggered up the stairs carrying several bags of shopping. Sarcastically he called up the stairs to Sherlock _"_Don't worry about me. I can manage."

Sherlock, was sitting at the dining table with his hands folded in front of his mouth as he glanced at a laptop screen. He seemed almost not to notice John, he sighed heavily as he carried the bags into the kitchen and dropped them onto the table. Sherlock seemed engrossed in whatever he was doing, John turned around from the kitchen table and frowned as he realized which piece of equipment Sherlock is looking at.

"Is that my computer?" maybe Sherlock didn't need him, but his stuff was fine, apparently ignoring him Sherlock started to type "Of course."  
"What?" "Mine was in the bedroom." He said as if it was a simple " What, and you couldn't be bothered to get up?" Sherlock didn't reply.  
"It's password protected!" John complained indignantly  
Still typing Sherlock continued"In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours."He glanced up at John. "Not exactly Fort Knox." He muttered sarcastically  
Annoyed John strode towards him_ "_Right, thank you."

He reached over and slammed the lid down as Sherlock pulled his fingers out of the way just in time. John then took the laptop across the room and placed it down on the floor beside his armchair as he sat down. Sherlock clasps his hands in the prayer position in front of his mouth as he props his elbows on the table and looks thoughtful. John picks up a small pile of letters from the table beside his chair and frowned.  
"Oh."  
He flicked through the letters, at least one of which was a red bill which needed urgent paying. He shook his head in resignation.  
"Need to get a job."  
"Oh, dull." Sherlock complained.  
He seemed to be lost in thought. John puts the letters back onto the table and looked across at friend for a moment, but then glanced at the bills again and awkwardly sat forward_._ Not only did Sherlock not need him, he wasn't able to help with his half of the rent yet. John felt useless.  
" Listen, um ... if you'd be able to lend me some"  
He stopped when he noticed that Sherlock was in a world of his own  
"Sherlock, are you listening"

_"_I need to go to the bank".  
He stood up and heads towards the stairs, taking his coat from the hook on the door as he went

John scowled, then jumped up to join him unable to resist.

John looked around at the bank as they were led into an office.

A smarmy looking sharply dressed greeted them. He wore an expensive looking blue suit that John thought made him look conceited. The man had neat brown hair and a snide smile on his face.  
"Sherlock Holmes."

They shook hands, Sebastian clasped Sherlock's hand in both of his own_._ A strange look passed between them.  
"Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?"  
Sherlock looks back at him with only marginally disguised dislike. Sebastian turned to look at John strangely accessing him. Sherlock introduced him."This is my _friend_, John Watson." Latching on to the emphasized word Sebastian continued "Friend?" he asked mildly surprised John wasn't sure how to take that, he wanted to be Sherlock's friend, but he feared for his own sanity that it would be something he couldn't give him right now, he was afraid that he couldn't be Sherlock's friend without losing a part of himself.  
"Colleague." John muttered.  
"Right."  
they shook hands, Sebastian looked at John curiously  
"Right."  
He throws a brief look at Sherlock as if questioning Sherlock's understanding of the word friend. Grinning unpleasantly, he scratched his neck momentarily and Sherlock's gaze fell on his wristwatch. As Sebastian turned away, John pursed his lips, he had taken an instant dislike to the man and he felt a momentary regret for correcting Sherlock, but he knew he needed to remain strong.  
"Well, grab a pew. D'you need anything? Coffee, water?"  
Sherlock shook his head.  
"No".  
"No?" To his secretary "We're all sorted here, thanks."  
As the secretary left the room, Sebastian sat down at his desk

"So, you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot."  
"Well, some."  
"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?"  
John frowned, confused, but Sebastian just laughed and pointed at Sherlock  
"Right. You're doing that thing."  
He glanced at John as if trying to share a camaraderie  
"We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do."  
"It's not a trick." Sherlock said quietly  
he was ignoring Sherlock again, still trying to share something with him "He could look at you and tell you your whole life story." "Yes, I've seen him do it." John confirmed  
"Put the wind up everybody. We hated him".  
Sherlock turned his head away and looked down, his face momentarily filling with pain.  
"You'd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night."

Well, that answered one of John's questions.  
"I simply observed." He whispered almost self-consciously  
"Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world – you're quite right. How could you tell?"

Sherlock opened his mouth, but Sebastian continued speaking.  
Haughtily he sneered at Sherlock "You're going to tell me there was, um, a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan."  
John smiled "No, I ..."  
Talking over him "Maybe it was the mud on my shoes!"  
Sherlock simply looks back at him for a moment before speaking there was something in his eyes that John couldn't read." I was just chatting with your secretary outside. _She_ told me."  
John frowned round at him, confused by such an 'ordinary' explanation. Sebastian laughed humorlessly and Sherlock smiled back at him with an equal lack of humor. John made a note to ask Sherlock about his response later.

**March 27th**

The last few days had taught John a valuable lesson. One, never, even as an idle joke claim to be Sherlock Holmes ever again and more importantly, he was Sherlock's friend. Sherlock had saved him. John had felt that camaraderie before saving people, being saved, but it was different with Sherlock because of Sherlock both he and Sarah had been put in danger and while the thought of Sarah dying because of him was terrible. John knew that he had chosen this life and he would just as dead without it. They had formed a bond that John didn't think could be broken. There was a pull where Sherlock was concerned. John couldn't ignore it, he would continue to follow him to see what adventures he led him to. This wasn't a romantic relationship, there was tension there, but John knew where he and Sherlock stood now. They had traipsed across London after smugglers, followed the clues, and found stolen treasure. If John wanted to keep that spark of adventure alive he needed to give up Sherlock.

He was working on his blog reading over the words he had written.

[I can't deny that I prefer this kind of life. Being a civilian doesn't suit me. But the thing is, this life we've chosen isn't safe. Sherlock chooses to be this crusading consulting detective and I choose to be his colleague. But he's becoming known. People know of him. It's like that taxi driver said about how this Moriarty knew about him. Then the opera singer, she knew all about him. How long before someone else comes after him? And what happens to the people like Sarah or Mrs Hudson when that happens?

All these people he involves in his adventures... They're not safe. We're not safe. There are forces out there and they're coming for Sherlock Holmes.]

He was prepared to give up everything just to be there when it happened, as his friend, yes a part of him wanted more and likely that part of him always would, he cared about Sherlock too much to lose him now. A heart is something meant to be freely given Sherlock wasn't ready to take what he offered, but John was prepared to give up what he was born to lose.

I am continuing the series "with what beats within." Chapters coming soon.


End file.
